


before the lesson of a hindsight view

by peterparkr



Series: Febuwhump 2020 [10]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, Time Travel, febuwhump 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22790230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterparkr/pseuds/peterparkr
Summary: A wizard sends Peter and Tony back in time. Peter gets a chance to see some of Tony's past.Febuwhump Day 10: Farewell Forever
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Febuwhump 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620064
Comments: 19
Kudos: 520





	before the lesson of a hindsight view

There are a few things that Peter has learned about fighting since he started leading a double life as a red and blue clad crime-fighting public figure. 

Sometimes battles drag on and feel like they’re never going to end, others go so fast that he doesn’t have time to catch his breath. The former almost always has a better outcome than the latter. If he has time to be bored, that generally means that they aren’t taking any long-lasting damage. If a battle feels fast, like he’s frantically scrounging for time to think, that means that it’s not going so well for the good guys. It also means that there’s probably magic involved.

Case in point—the sorcerer flinging brightly colored balls of light at Peter as he flips and twists his body to dodge them. 

“You okay down there, Underoos?”

A blue orb of energy grazes the outside of Peter’s shoulder and his body spasms for a moment, like there’s electricity pulsing through it. He recovers just in time to duck under a red one—which is a relief. Red seems like it would be more dangerous than blue.

“Honestly? I’ve been better,” Peter pants. He flings himself toward the nearest wall and starts scurrying up. Spells bite at the back of his feet the whole way up until he flips around to land behind the sorcerer. “I could use some backup—if you’re not too busy.”

“I was just thinking about how I’m drowning in down-time,” Sam says, deadpan. “It’s not like there are four other wizards that we’re dealing with or anything.”

Peter hears a dull thud over the comms. He looks up in time to see Sam spin once in the air before recovering, Tony zipping past him.

“No making fun of the kid during life-threatening situations,” Sam mumbles. “Noted.”

“Correction,” Tony says. “ _ I’m _ the only one who’s allowed to make fun of the kid in life-threatening situations.”

Peter grins as the Iron Man suit approaches him, but it snaps off his face as he ducks under another round of colorful fire.

Tony lands in front of him, palm pointed at the sorcerer.

“Hey, kid,” he says without looking over his shoulder. “Does May know you’re here?”

“Um—well—”

“You know, I’m the one who has to hear it when you show up on the eleven o’ clock news.”

“I know, I’ll—”

“Mr. Stark,” the sorcerer interrupts. His eyes are gleaming, lips twisted up in a sneer.

“Oh boy. I’ve seen that look before.” Tony sighs. “Let me guess—you’re excited to finally come face to face? Personal vendetta? Revenge is a dish best served cold?”

“You’re always so sure of yourself—so cocky” the sorcerer muses. “I’d love to take you down a few pegs and see how you fall apart.”

“Woah, woah.” Tony looks back at Peter and jabs a thumb at the wizard. “The guy could at least buy me dinner first.”

“So quick with a joke. I wonder when that started.”

Tony laughs and then his repulsor whirs, a blast hitting the sorcerer square in the chest. He falls back without a sound, except the thump of his body hitting the floor.

“Before you were born, buddy,” Tony mumbles.

He turns to Peter, helmet seeping away. “All good?”

Peter nods, bending a little to glance around Tony at the wizard. His body is still, smoke billowing up from the wound.

“Are you sure? You look a little singed there.” He gestures to Peter’s shoulder.

“I’m good. It’ll heal.”

Tony opens his mouth to reply just as the base of Peter’s skull starts to itch and send frantic pings through his body.

“Mr. Stark—”

There’s movement behind Tony, and then a flash of green light. Peter lunges forward to knock him out of the orb’s path, but it follows him. Tony’s suit seems to absorb the light until there’s a green tinge around his body. It tickles Peter’s hands where they’re in contact with the metal. The feeling expands, enveloping his whole body in a warm itchy glow.

* * *

Peter wakes up to a voice. It sounds kind of familiar, but he can’t quite place a name to it. 

He stretches a little and raises his head off of the hard surface that it’s resting on. Maybe he fell asleep in Tony’s lab again. The voice does sound a little like Tony’s does when he’s muttering to himself as he works.

But then he opens his eyes, sees the Iron Man suit next to him, and disregards that theory. The helmet is still down, as it had been before the sorcerer hit them with the green light. Tony’s eyes are closed.

Peter nudges his shoulder, but it has no effect, so he starts shaking him.

“Mr. Stark,” he whispers.

Tony winces, one hand coming up to his head as he sits up. “What hap—”

“Shh,” Peter hisses.

Tony clamps his mouth shut and his eyes start searching back and forth frantically as he tries to get his bearings. Something shifts on his face, a sort of recognition lighting up his features before it fades into resigned acceptance. The resolve only grows as the voice in the room raises with excitement before dialing back down to the murmured tones.

Tony heaves a sigh and then summons the nanotech of his suit back into its compartment. Peter copies the action and waits for the plan.

Instead of relaying one, Tony wipes one of his hands over his face and sighs again. “I hate magic.”

“Me too,” Peter says softly. “Do you know where we are?”

Tony keeps his face fixed forward. His shoulders twitch up and then down—not even enough of a motion that Peter would call it a shrug. Tony definitely knows where they are, but he doesn’t want to tell Peter. Maybe they’re dead—how Tony would recognize the afterlife, Peter doesn’t know, but he also wouldn’t put it past him.

Peter’s head automatically tilts to the side at the sound of fast, little footsteps. Tony lets out a string of curses under his breath.

There’s a little boy running down the stairs, visible from their position behind the shelf. The fevered stream of consciousness from the original voice cuts off—turning into a heavy sigh. 

“Didn’t your mother put you to bed an hour ago?”

“I can’t sleep!” The boy disappears from Peter’s view, presumably approaching the man. “Maybe you can teach me to build something else—like with the circuit board? That was fun!”

“It’s late. Maybe tomorrow.”

“But that’s what you always say,” the boy whines.

There’s another long sigh. The man starts mumbling things about his son that Peter can only hear because of his enhanced senses. He hopes that the boy doesn’t pick up the words. They’re not exactly kind.

Peter cranes his neck, to try to see around the shelves that are obscuring his view. Tony grabs his shoulder and pulls him back into the secluded area behind it.

There’s a sharp gasp. “No—don’t—”

A harsh cacophony of clattering sounds echoes throughout the room. A few tools and screws roll under the shelf. One hits Tony’s knee and he picks it up, twirling it around in his hands a few times. He grimaces and then rolls it back under the shelf.

“Anthony!”

Tony tenses beside Peter. The kid on the other side of the shelf lets out a squeak and Peter shifts until he can find a gap through the array of objects that he can see through. The man is holding the boy in the air, shaking him a little.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to touch things?”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to help—”

“You’re not helping. Go to bed.”

“I’ll be more careful—please!”

“Jarvis? Jarvis!”

Something clicks in Peter’s head—Jarvis,  _ Anthony _ . He turns to Tony, whose eyes flick momentarily to Peter before darting away again.

Another man—Jarvis, hurries down the stairs. When he speaks, it’s in a kind British accent. He scoops the boy—Tony, Peter thinks it’s Tony, but younger, when he was no older than five—up and rubs his back soothingly. Little Tony’s hands dig into the fabric of his shirt. Peter can see tears lining his cheeks as he’s carried back up the stairs.

The man who can’t be anyone but Howard Stark lets out an exasperated groan. He must throw something, because the next thing Peter knows, glass is shattering against the wall a few feet to his right. Both he and Tony flinch away from it.

Howard stomps up the stairs.

Tony doesn’t move even after the light switch flips off and the door at the top of the stairs closes. Peter follows his lead and stays as still as possible, trying to freeze every muscle. Even if he did want to break the silence, he doesn’t know what he would say.

He tries out a few things in his head. 

_ So that was you, right? _

_ I didn’t know JARVIS was a real person! _

_ Is this the actual past, like, do you remember this day?  _

_ Your dad kind of seems like an asshole, no offense. _

_ Wizards, huh? The worst! _

He’s about to go with the last one, when Tony saves him from certain mortification by easing up to his feet, and striding out from behind the shelf.

“We have to find a way to get back,” he says.

It’s better than what Peter was going to go with.

He follows, avoiding the pieces of glass with leap. 

His first full glimpse of the lab catches him by surprise. It’s breath-taking—reminds Peter of Tony’s current labs, except with retro tech, which makes it arguably cooler. It’s like a museum display—a little slice of past innovation preserved in time.

“Woah.” Peter twirls in a circle to get a 360 degree view. “You grew up with this?”

His mouth is a traitor. Peter bites his bottom lip. He’s pretty sure that Tony’s plan was to not talk about it.

“Well.” Tony goes over to the nearest worktable and starts messing with some of the equipment on top of it. “Wasn’t down here too often.”

Peter could have guessed that much, if he had thought about his question before he said it out loud. One day, hopefully soon, his mouth will start to wait for his brain. 

The door at the top of the steps opens. Peter meets Tony’s eyes—sees his own fear reflected back at him. He looks around for options and then ducks under the table. 

Tony follows suit and groans a little as he pulls his knees close to his chest. “I am way too old for this shit.”

As if on cue, young Tony’s head peaks under the table. His nose scrunches up when he sees Tony.

“Dad? What are you doing?” He looks even more surprised when he notices Peter. “Who’s that?”

Tony stiffens. Peter wishes the floor would swallow them whole. He’s starting to feel sort of ill—probably from the stress and awkwardness. The feeling ramps up until there are green sparks on the edges of his vision.

There’s a shout upstairs. Howard’s calling Tony’s name.

Young Tony glances toward the steps and then back at them. He crosses his arms. “Who are you?”

Peter blinks a few times. The green is starting to overtake the rest of the room. He’s going to pass out—which isn’t going to help their situation.

“Mr. St—”

“Go to bed,” Tony pleads, ignoring Peter. “Trust me. It will be better if he doesn’t find you down here.”

“Why are you in my house?”

The parts of the lab that aren’t green are starting to become staticky, like Peter’s watching it on an old black and white TV set. 

The last thing to fade is the pseudo-petulant look on Young Tony’s face. It’s already an act. Peter thinks there’s more fear and uncertainty underneath it than anything else.

* * *

The green fades and for a moment, Peter thinks that nothing has changed. They’re still in a lab, still sitting on the floor, but when he looks around he can see small differences. Some of the tech is more up to date than last time. The shelves and worktables have a different style and they’re in different places.

Tony groans and starts massaging his temples. “This is ridiculous.”

Peter pushes himself to his feet. “The updates are, uh, nice.”

One of the muscles in Tony’s cheeks draws taut before relaxing. “Different lab.”

“Oh. It looks—really similar.”

“He was a creature of habit.”

There are no stairs this time to give them a grace period, but Peter hears footsteps approaching before the door opens and gestures for Tony to hide. He runs into the nearest supply closet and Peter crouches between two shelves, pulling a chair in front of him. 

“Wow,” Young Tony sounds older now, close to Peter’s age. “It’s nice!”

“Nice, he says,  _ nice _ ,” Howard replies. “All of the equipment combined plus construction cost me over half a billion dollars.”

His tone is light, joking. It kind of reminds Peter of Tony. 

“Then it should be perfect, right? Never settle for less.”

Peter sees one of Howard’s hands clap over Young Tony’s back from between the slats of the chair. The grin on his face is wide.

“Now you’re thinking like a businessman. I guess that college is teaching you something!”

“Hmm.”

Howard snorts. “That’s a compliment. Say ‘thank you’.”

“Thanks.”

“You’ve got a poker face now, too,” Howard comments. “That’s good. You’ll need that.”

Tony doesn’t answer, starts fiddling with something that Peter can’t see. Howard leans his back against the table, face tilted sideways like he’s assessing Tony’s every move. 

They lapse into awkward silence. Peter starts fidgeting in his hiding spot.

Howard clears his throat. “You’ll have more responsibilities at Stark this summer. It will give you a chance to gain some much needed experience for when you take over the place one day.”

“Dad—”

“I’ve got you scheduled for a conference in Tokyo during July, and then you’re off to New York for a couple of weeks after that.”

Tony’s shoulders rise toward his ears and stay there for a few seconds before slumping in defeat. “Okay. Sounds good.”

Howard pats him on the back again and then launches into business and technical jargon about the company, the conferences, and his role in all of it. Peter can practically see the tension emanating off of Tony. It just keeps building. Peter cringes and leans back against the shelves, waiting for it to snap.

There’s a loud clang—Tony setting something down on the table a little too hard. “Can we talk about something else?”

Peter sits up straighter, so he can see. Howard’s standing deadly still. Tony’s body-language has changed. It’s more closed off. He’s subtly leaning away.

“What,” Howard snaps, voice low.

Tony rolls his shoulders. His foot starts bouncing around. The repetition of the question is a little more careful, the words aren’t heated like they were before. “Can we talk about something—anything—that’s not the company for a few minutes?”

Howard falls silent for too long. Tony glances quickly towards him and then busies himself with whatever’s on the worktable.

“What else is there to talk about?”

Tony’s neck twists to look at his father, eyes blown wide. He searches his face, but doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for—Howard stays completely neutral, verging on disinterested. 

Peter swallows, finds himself wanting to shake the man. This lab doesn’t look brand new. It’s definitely been in use—for months, if not a year. If this is the first time that Tony’s seeing it, Peter’s willing to go out on a limb and say that it’s the first time he’s seen Howard in just as long—probably since he left for college. There’s a lot they could catch up on—Tony’s new friends, if he likes his major, what his most interesting class was, the food in the cafeteria, if he’s seen any cool movies or read any thought-provoking books.

“I asked you a question.” Howard taps his fingers along the table. “What else is there for us to talk about besides the company?” 

“I dunno—nothing, I guess.” Tony folds his hands together on the table and stares down at them.

“Exactly,” Howard says, then starts up right where he left off about the latest Stark Industry dealings as if there had been no interruption.

Tony doesn’t move throughout the rest of it. There’s no more tinkering on the table. He doesn’t even look up.

“It’s my— _ our _ legacy, Tony.” Howard concludes. “It’s the most important thing there is.”

Tony nods.

“There’s something I want you to look at. I know you like fixing things.” Howard ushers Tony out of Peter’s sight, in the direction of the supply closet.

Peter holds his breath, but he releases it after enough time goes by without the door opening. 

“Let me grab some more,” he hears Tony say a few seconds later.

“You don’t know where they are.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

Someone turns between the two shelves. Peter’s frozen in his hiding place, mind not quite able to comprehend the younger version of his mentor. The boy in front of him is Peter’s age, if not younger, but his clothes and demeanor suggest otherwise. He looks like a child playing dress-up—in a suit jacket that’s meant for a working man rather than a college freshmen and even less so for a 15 year-old boy.

Peter drags himself out of his thoughts and tries to make himself as small as possible, pressing his back against the wall and tucking his feet underneath him.

Young Tony crumples in the space that he thinks is empty. He winds his arms tight across his chest. Peter can’t tell if it’s for comfort or just to hold himself together. He only stays like that for a moment, before releasing a deep breath. Then he unclasps his arms, leaning down to scan the shelves for whatever he’s looking for. 

He pushes the chair, to roll it out of the way so he can see better. Peter reaches out and grabs it, holding it in place before he can think of any other course of action.

Tony’s forehead creases and he squints into the dark space that Peter’s sitting in. The moment he realizes that there’s a person there, his jaw drops.

“Oh, shit,” he exclaims, stumbling back.   


“Anthony,” Howard says, sternly.

“Sorry, I just—” He looks down again. Peter tries to plead with his eyes. Tony frowns, but nods. “Dropped something.”

Peter sighs in relief and mouthes ‘thank you’.

“Be careful,” Howard shouts. “Half a billion dollars, remember?”

Tony rolls his eyes, then leans toward Peter.

“Don’t fucking move,” he hisses. “You’re on Stark property and we can make your life a living hell. So don’t try anything funny.” 

“Got it,” Peter whispers.

He leans back, heart-pounding, riding out the waves of panic at being discovered. 

He hears Young Tony convince Howard that he can leave him in the lab alone. The door opens and closes, then Tony’s approaching him again. All of the emotions Peter saw the first time he walked down the aisle are gone, replaced by a hardened exterior shell.

“Who are you?” Tony puts his hands on his hips and puffs his chest out.

“Er—Peter?”

“Nice to meet you, Erpeter,” Tony says, drily. “Want to explain why you’re in my father’s lab?”

“Um.” Peter searches the shelves for inspiration, but comes up with nothing.

“You’re a really bad criminal.”

“Yes! Criminal! That’s what I am.”

Tony scoffs. “Oh my god. You can’t admit that you’re a criminal. I could go get my father right now.”

“Would you actually care if I robbed him?”

Tony narrows his eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

Peter cringes at the more familiar Tony voice. He’s giving Peter an unreadable, but definitely not happy, look over his younger counterpart’s shoulder. 

“Oh my god, there’s more than one of y—” Young Tony cuts off as he turns and sees Tony. “What the fuck? You look—”

“No time for that. We need—” Tony brings a hand up and rubs his eyes with it. “We need all the help we can to get out of— _ ugh _ .”

Young Tony looks confused as Tony starts blinking rapidly, but Peter understands. He can feel it too—the uncomfortable itch of the magic, the green pinpricks invading his eyesight.

“What’s going on?” Young Tony asks.

“This is the past for us,” Tony says through gritted teeth. “We need to get back to our present.”

Everything is tinged green—starting to fade away. “Mr. Stark, I think we’re leaving again.”

Young Tony’s mouth bobs open and closed a few times. “So you’re—are you me?”

Tony sighs. “Good luck, kid.”

* * *

Tony’s already awake and pacing when Peter comes to. They’re in an empty bedroom. A smattering of rock-band posters, schematics for robots, and nasa stickers line the walls. 

“I’m the problem,” Tony says. “If I see my younger self, we go to the next spot in time.”

Peter blinks a few times to stave off the remnants of green.

“Well maybe if we do it through enough times, we’ll get back to the present.”

“You really think that’s the sorcerer’s game-plan? It’s more likely that we’ll keep going back through it in a loop—forever.”

He has a point. The sorcerer didn’t seem like the lenient type.

“This is my room.” Tony sarcastically gestures around like a tour-guide. “Welcome.”

“I like it!”

“No need to discuss the decor.” Tony starts pacing again. “I did some snooping. I think it’s winter break of my junior year. I should be around here somewhere. Rhodey should be here, too.”

“Woah.”

Tony turns to him. “It’s going to take some convincing, but they’ll be able to help you get into Howard’s lab and figure this shit out.”

“Me? As in just me? By myself?”

“Aren’t you always telling me that you can handle more independence?”

“This is a little different! You’re telling me that you want me, and what, 20-year-old you and Colonel Rhodes to invent time-travel in your dad’s lab without him noticing?”

“Okay—one, Rhodey’s the old one. I’m seventeen right now. And the three of you should have enough common sense among you to figure it out. If not, I’ll be up here for consultation.”

“You know,” Peter says. “Just a few years ago, I was a completely regular boy on a class field trip. How did I get here?”

Tony shrugs. “Life throws you for some loops. Get over it.”

Peter shoots him a disbelieving look, but Tony just nods encouragingly.

He takes a deep breath and pushes out the door of the room. The rest of the house—if it can be called a house, it’s more like a mansion—is huge. There’s a maze-like structure of staircases winding through an open atrium. Peter gapes around at it, trying to decide which way to go. Down seems like the best option.

As soon as he steps onto the staircase, he feels exposed. People on almost any floor could see him. He starts running down faster, taking two steps at a time.

“Excuse me?”

Peter halts, skidding down a few more stairs before steadying himself by sticking a hand to the railing.

“Er.”

It’s a woman—must be Maria Stark. She’s at the bottom of the steps, looking up at Peter skeptically.

“May I ask who you are?”

“I’m, um, Tony’s friend?” He shuffles his feet a little. “Peter.”

She purses her lips. “I didn’t think that Tony was back yet. Or that he was bringing more than one friend home.”

There’s a flurry of voices from the floor below, one ringing out above the rest. 

“Mom! I’m home.”

Maria looks over her shoulder and then back up at Peter. He feels the blood start to drain from his face.

He jumps down the last few steps, darting by Maria. 

“Tony!” He works to make his voice as enthusiastic and confident as possible. “Rhodey! I beat you guys here.”

An older version of Jarvis is standing behind the pair, holding a few of their bags. All three of them look beyond confused.

“Have you convinced the whole world to call me by that stupid nickname.” Rhodey elbows Tony in the ribs. “Who is—”

“My last final was so hard,” Peter interrupts. “How were yours? Let me help with your bags!”

He runs forward, scooping up a few of the suitcases—probably too many to reveal that he can easily carry, but he has more pressing things to think about right now.

“Work with me, please. I’ll explain,” he whispers when he’s close enough to them.

Jarvis hears it too, and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“These go up to your room, then?” Peter doesn’t wait for an answer before sprinting up the stairs. 

“Get in the closet,” he whispers as he bursts into the room. “Now, now, go.”

“Oh no, not again.” Tony pulls a face before laughing. “Also, can’t say I remember this being part of the plan.

“I’m improvising.” Peter pushes him towards it. “Hurry, they’re right behind me.”

Tony grumbles something about the horror of Peter being the one to improvise, but gets inside anyway, pulling the door closed behind him.

Young Tony, Rhodey, and Jarvis file into the room. Peter hadn’t expected the third, but he can work with it. 

He claps his hands, a little desperately, then runs around them to close the door. Jarvis angles himself between Peter and the other two boys.

Peter holds his hands up. “Okay, um, this is going to seem crazy.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. You’ve seemed crazy since the moment we met you,” Rhodey says.

Tony laughs and grins over at him. 

“Um, anyway, I’m Peter and I’m from the future.”

“Oh my god,” Tony says. “Jarvis, is this a welcome-home prank.”

“No,” Jarvis and Peter say at the same time.   


Peter wrings his hands together, trying to think. It’s almost worse that Tony’s only a few feet behind him, listening to everything he says. He has to make this good.

“I know you in the future,” Peter says to Young Tony. “He’s here too, older you. But you can’t see yourself because that makes us jump through time.”

“That’s convenient.”

“He’s real! He’s in the closet!”

Rhodey snorts and Tony glares at him.

“Please, I need your help to get into the lab so we can figure out how to get back.”

Tony turns to Jarvis. “What do we do with this guy?”

There are a few thuds on the closet door. Jarvis, Tony, and Rhodey jump and look over at it with apprehension.

“Be right back,” Peter says.

He cracks the door open. Tony’s standing inside, one eyebrow quirked.

“This is going well for you,” he says. “Let me talk to Jarvis.”

“Um, okay.” He tilts his head out of the closet. “Mr. Jarvis? He’d like to speak to you.”

Jarvis steps forward and Young Tony raises an arm to stop him. “You can’t go in there. He’s crazy! There could be a bomb or—”

“It’s alright.” Jarvis pushes past the arm. He looks almost excited at the prospect of what’s behind the door.

“Be careful,” Young Tony blurts out.

Peter opens the door enough for Jarvis to get inside, then closes it before Young Tony can try to poke his head through.

They stare at each other, in a stand-off, until Rhodey sighs and collapses back onto the bed. 

“You two are making me nervous. Sit down.” 

Tony and Peter both try to wait eachother out. They end up hesitantly stepping away from the door at the same time. Tony flings himself onto the bed next to Rhodey. Peter hesitantly sits on the edge.

Rhodey raises his head, looking over Peter critically. “Are you like, his son?”

Tony sits up so fast that he nearly falls off the bed. “No, no way—right?”

Peter sighs. “No.”

“Thank god.”

“Ouch,” Peter says with a frown.

“Nothing against you—besides the whole certifiable gig you’ve got going on. I’ve just never seen myself as the dad type, you know? I wouldn’t be good at it.”

Peter turns to face him. “I think you’d be a good dad.”

Whatever response he would give is stopped by the closet door opening. Jarvis steps out. His eyes look kind of glazed over, like he’s in shock.

“So,” Rhodey says. “Is he crazy?”

Jarvis just shakes his head. “Follow me, boys.”

Rhodey’s grin sinks away and Tony’s face pales. Peter smirks at them and goes down the stairs after Jarvis. Rhodey and Tony follow.

It takes them about five hours in the lab and about ten trips up the stairs for consultations with Tony, but they finally configure a sort of time-space GPS that should allow them to navigate where the sorcerer’s spell sends them once Tony sees his younger self.

Peter runs back up the stairs and flings the door open. Tony’s sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“We did it,” Peter says. “We get to go home!”

Tony wordlessly extends a hand and Peter pulls him up to his feet. It’s not exactly the excited response that Peter thought it would be. His jaw is set and his mouth is pressed into a tight frown.

“You said you saw my mom?”

Peter bites the inside of his cheek as he begins to understand Tony’s somber mood. “Yeah—I did.”

Tony nods again and walks down the stairs. Instead of going straight for the lab, he turns right, following the light notes of slow classical music. Peter stays a few paces behind him and watches as he pokes his head into the study. Maria’s sitting at a piano, eyes closed as her body sways with the beat. 

“Bye, Mom,” Tony whispers. 

Peter doesn’t think there’s any way she could have heard the words, especially over the music that she’s playing, but a soft smile appears on her face. Tony’s lips twitch up a bit too before he turns and makes his way over to the door to the lab.

“Okay,” Tony says as he steps inside. “Let’s do this.”

Rhodey and Young Tony look up immediately, both of their mouths forming identical circles.

“Holy shit,” Rhodey says. “You got  _ old _ .”

“Well, you’re older,” Tony retorts. “Think about that one.”

Rhodey opens his mouth, but then seems to think about it, and just frowns instead.

Peter’s already starting to feel green around the edges. “We need to get these things on, now.”

Jarvis grabs the bands and slides one onto Peter’s arm, before moving on to Tony. They speak in hushed tones that Peter tunes out to respect their privacy. When they’re finished, Tony steps away sniffing and wiping under his eyes.

Young Tony is watching the exchange carefully. He looks almost as devastated as Tony does. 

“Okay, Pete, I’m starting to feel it.” Tony forces a smile. “We’ll be home soon.”

Peter looks around at the ragtag group they’ve formed. He’s grown attached to the younger version of Tony and Rhodey, along with Jarvis, during the past few hours. He’ll miss them. He can’t imagine how Tony feels. 

The door slams open and all of them turn toward the sound. 

Howard Stark steps into the room. There are frown lines etched into his face, but they quickly shift, creasing in confusion before deepening into anger.

“Anthony Stark, what is going on—”

Peter grabs the nearest heavy-looking object—some sort of metal canister—and brings it down over Howard’s head. His eyes roll back, and Peter drops the canister in time to catch him before he falls and ease him down to the ground. 

Peter straightens up slowly, feeling multiple pairs of eyes on him. 

He looks at Tony. “I’m going to be honest, Mr. Stark. I don’t like him very much.”

Tony’s face stays completely devoid of emotion for a second before he breaks into laughter. “Oh my god, kid. I—you just knocked him out. I don’t even know what to say.”

“Okay, wait, I do,” Rhodey says. “Can we address how he just lifted that thing? It has to weigh like 100 pounds at least—and no offense but you’re kind of a twig.”

“I’m not a twig,” Peter protests.

“Okay,” Tony interjects. “We don’t have time to get into all of that.”

He’s right. Peter’s seeing everything through a tunnel of green.

Tony turns to Rhodey and Young Tony. “The things I should say to you two.” He points at Rhodey. “You, keep me out of trouble.” He shifts the finger to Young Tony. “And you, get him into some, alright? That should balance out.”

“Wait,” Young Tony says. “I—how—can you—? I don’t know.”

Tony’s face softens. “Hang in there. It’s a wild ride. But things seem to work out for us. Just not the way you’re going to expect them to.”

The younger version looks even more lost than he had before, but he nods. Rhodey slings an arm over his shoulder.

Tony walks over to Howard, stares down at his unconscious body. A series of complicated emotions flit over his face that Peter can’t even pretend he understands. 

“Goodbye,” he mumbles.

Then he walks over to Jarvis and throws his arms around him, squeezing him tight. 

“Bye, J. I love you.”

Jarvis pats Tony’s back. It reminds Peter of when he carried five-year-old Tony up the stairs. “Goodbye, sir.”

Tony pulls away and looks over at Peter. “Okay, we’re out of here. Press the button in three, two, one—”

* * *

They’re laying on concrete in the center of the alley that they fought the sorcery in. Neither of them make any move to stand.

“I’m done with magic,” Tony says. “I’m getting rid of it. I’ll have to kill Strange.”

“Magic is like anything else, Mr. Stark. It’s about how the person with the power uses it, not about the power itself.”

Tony groans. “Shut up, kid. I feel like I have a magical time-induced hang-over. You’re not allowed to say anything that makes sense, right now.”

Peter laughs and shifts into a more comfortable position. “Are we planning on getting up anytime soon?”

“Nope. I’m taking a break—on account of the aforementioned time-induced hang-over.”

“Cool, but don’t you think the others are worried about us?”

“Please respect my break, Parker.”

“Right, right.”

Tony closes his eyes. It’s gotten dark since their adventure down memory lane started. Peter looks up at the sky. He gets a little lost in it—thinking about the universe and how it stretches for lightyears through time and space. Their lives are kind of insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but maybe that makes them all the more important in a way. To affect change even though it might not matter in the eons to come must be a noble pursuit.

He rolls over. “Remember that thing you said to me that one time?”

“Funnily enough, I’m not getting it from just that. Got any specifics?”

“About, like, your dad. And breaking the cycle.”

Tony shifts a little, so that he’s looking over at Peter too. “That was a joke, kid. And what you saw—he wasn’t all bad.”

“He could have been better.”

Tony averts his eyes. “We all could be."

"But he, like, really, _really_ could have been."

"Yeah." Tony chuckles a little. "Maybe. But it's the past.  Let’s not talk about that little magical excursion of ours anymore, alright?”

Peter bites his lip. “Can I just say one thing?”

“Only one. And then we drop it forever.”

“Deal.” Peter pauses. He can feel Tony watching him. “I just wanted to say that I think you’re doing a good job of, like, breaking it.”

A few cars drive past the alley. Peter taps his foot nervously.

“Thanks, kid,” Tony finally says.

Peter smiles and closes his eyes, content to rest on the hard concrete for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Pink Confetti by Tow'rs which is such a Tony song to me! I love it so much.
> 
> My [tumblr!](https://peterparkrr.tumblr.com)


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